Wake Me Up When It's Over
by Telemain's Daughter
Summary: Four times Simon woke Baz up, and one time he didn't. Selected from prompt memes on tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: My sister had asked me for Simon and Baz fics way back when Fangirl came out, but I never got to it. Now that there's a novel, well...these two just came to live in my head, and they won't leave until I write about them._

 _These are all written from prompts from a tumblr meme that I liked. There's also a reference to Fangirl and one to Doctor Who, because I can't help myself (see if you can spot them :) ). Please read and review, I love hearing from you!_

 _I do not own these characters, all rights belong to Rainbow Rowell and St. Martin's/Macmillan._

* * *

Simon Snow searched his desk drawers and found a silver torch, but no batteries. He looked under his bed and found a half-eaten packet of crisps (which he ate), and a biscuit tin full of interesting rocks he'd collected during his third year, but no batteries. He briefly considered searching Baz's desk, but Baz was so good at fire magic, he'd probably never even used a torch in his life. Besides, Simon was fairly certain Baz had set up lock protections, and he didn't fancy being found in the morning with his hand magickally glued to his roommate's desk.

There was no help for it. He'd have to wake Baz.

He scooted across the floor to Baz's bed and poked the mattress with the end of the torch. There was no reply from the heap of blankets above him.

"Baz?" he whispered loudly. The blankets groaned and rolled farther away. "Baz, are you awake?"

"How could I possibly be asleep when you keep rattling tins of rocks and crashing about?" Baz emerged from his blanket cocoon and glared down at Simon. "Crowley, Snow, this better be good."

"I need your, um... your help. You can see in the dark. Right? I mean, can't you?"

"Can't find the loo again?"

"No! I mean, yes, yes I can; no, that's not why I need you." Simon rucked his hands through his hair in frustration and accidentally smacked himself in the face with the empty torch. Baz snarled and disappeared back into the bed.

Simon stood up and shook his shoulder through the blankets. "No, no no no, come back. I need your help. Truly, The school depends on it."

"I have yet to hear a compelling reason why I should get out of bed, Snow."

Simon glanced out the window onto the lawn. Still dark and empty, but for how long? "I'll... um. I'll owe you?" His voice squeaked at the end and he cleared his throat to try and cover it up, but Baz still rolled over and stared at him.

"Really."

"Yes?"

Baz considered for a moment, then stood up in one graceful movement and swung his dressing gown over his shoulders. "Put on a shirt and then tell me what's so important that you'll risk owing your sworn enemy."

"You're not my—and, no. I'm hot."

Baz tripped over the slipper he was trying to put on and sat down on the edge of his bed with a thump. "Some of us," he said, enunciating carefully, " aren't perpetually two shakes away from lighting ourselves on fire. It's 7 bloody Celsius in here when you leave the window open. Put on a fucking shirt; you're making me cold."

He threw a sweatshirt at Simon, who obediently put it on. He sat down across from Baz on his own bed, twisting the torch in his hands.

"I need to go to the Wood."

Baz dropped his head in his hands. "Stars and garters, Snow, can't you leave the poor Wood alone?"

"Listen! There's a—a creature, there. It got in. And it hunts magicians by their magic use, but as long as no one's using magic, it can't see them. So I—we-have to go _now_ , before the rest of the school wakes up. And that's why I—need you? Unless you have batteries?" He waved the torch. "Because I—we, um, can't use magic light."

"And how did you find out about this special new friend of yours, exactly?" Baz asked, his face still hidden in his hands.

"The Mage told me."

"Why can't your precious Mage take care of it, instead of sending his protege?"

"He is, I mean, he's trying. He's out there with it. He sent a bird to tell me."

"Is that what that sound was? I thought that was you." Baz stood up. "Won't the magic use have alerted this 'creature' to the Mage?"

" _Yes._ That's why we need to get going, he might need help."

"Oh, you all need help. Serious, serious help." Baz opened their room door and headed down the stairs. "Well, come on then, Snow. Can't have you wandering around killing yourself in the dark willy-nilly. That's my job."

* * *

Simon fought a ridiculous urge to hold Baz's hand as they crossed the lawn in the dark, heading for the Wood. But just so that he didn't get too far ahead. The Mage, alone and practically defenseless in the Wood, would probably be too much of a temptation for Baz; who knew what he would try and do if he was left alone.

But he didn't. Hold Baz's hand. Because that would be weird. So he settled for walking very close beside him, so close their sleeves kept brushing, Baz walking with confidence in the almost complete darkness, Simon stumbling along beside him. Occasionally Baz would glance over at him. Probably in irritation. It was too dark to tell.

As they entered the wood, Simon began to be able to pick out details more clearly. He was excited, thinking his eyes were finally adjusting, before he realized there was a dull glow coming from up ahead, and that's why he could see. A dull glow. Like flames. Simon ran forward.

Baz yanked him back, right before he could crash into a tree. "You really do have a death wish, don't you?" he hissed. "We approach burning things _carefully,_ Snow. Not like we're happy to see them. Although in your case..."

"Can't you stop snarking for one bloody minute?" Simon snapped, wrestling out of Baz's surprisingly strong grasp. "The Mage is in _danger._ "

"I can snark and sneak at the same time." Baz let go of his shirt, only to grab his upper arm and drag him forward with him at a more cautious pace.

There was a clearing ahead. Simon recognized it as a place he'd followed Baz to during fifth year. There was a natural log bench off to the side. Baz had liked to sit there. Across the clearing there was a tangle of berry bushes where Simon had hidden and watched him. (The berries didn't taste very good.)

Now, the Mage sat on the log bench, and Simon's view of the berry bushes was obscured by a glowing, flaming ball of purplish-blue fluff that hovered at knee height in the center of the clearing. It pulsed softly, and the air suddenly smelled like burning hair.

Simon shrugged off Baz and dropped to his knees in front of the Mage, shaking him, waving and snapping his fingers in front of his face, but to no avail. The Mage simply stared straight ahead, in some sort of thrall before the fluffy ball. He turned around in time to see Baz leaning into the ball's light. Simon jumped up.

" _Flammable!_ " he shouted, and rushed at Baz, who neatly sidestepped him and smirked as he had to flail remain upright.

"Why, Snow, I didn't know you cared. Besides, I'm not as stupid as you look; _I_ know better than to touch strange things I find on the ground." He gestured at the fluff ball. "We are obviously dealing with a MagiCat."

"How is it _obvious_?" Simon asked, fed up with Baz always knowing things.

"You've obviously never had a cat." He shrugged out of his dressing gown, seemed to calculate for a moment, then tossed the garment over the fluff ball.

"Wait!" said Simon, too late. "Is it magic?"

"Is my dressing gown magic? No, Snow, not last I checked." The ball bounced gently, but otherwise did not move. Baz's face, as he smiled triumphantly at Simon, was lit from below in a maroon glow as the ball's light shown through the fabric. "This is a Seeker; the Cat coughs it up, and it goes forth to find mages. When it does, it holds them until the Cat can arrive." Baz shook his head. "I'm surprised Bunce has stuck with you so long if she has to explain everything to you. No doubt it makes her feel important. Do you have a bin bag? I'm not walking back clutching cat yak."

Simon gaped, then gestured at himself. "Pockets?"

"Useless as usual, Snow."

" _I_ could carry it. But what are we going to _do_ with-"

"You're leaking enough magic all over the place, it's a wonder it hasn't trapped you yet. Suppose I'll have to fix everything again." And he snapped his fingers and said firmly, " **Don't get mad, get Glad!** "

Simon had time to make an inarticulate noise, and Baz had the grace to look chagrined, before the ball pulsed and incinerated the dressing gown, freezing Baz into position. A single black bin bag fluttered to the ground out of his grasp.

The underbrush at the side of the clearing rustled, then rustled again, and Simon saw, over the pulsing hairball, that the berry bushes were swaying. There was no time to lose. He glanced between Baz and the Mage. His magic was useless, and he was worse than useless without even that. You can't intimidate a hairball, let alone a cat. Baz was so much better at this kind of thing, at any kind of thing, really-

The bushes rustled again, and in the fluff ball's light, he saw the glint of eyes through the leaves. Without thinking, Simon snatched up the bin bag, rustled it open, slammed it over the glowing ball, and ran from the clearing.

He stumbled through the dark wood, only barely able to see by a dull grayish light emanating from the bag. The fluff ball was hot, so very hot; he could feel it radiating outwards, singing his arm, pants leg, hands, whenever it bounced against him as he ran. He hoped it wouldn't melt the bag altogether, or he didn't know what he'd do. He didn't know what he was doing as it was. He could hear Penny berating him in his head for rushing off once again with no plan at all.

He crashed out of the Wood and fell to his knees on the lawn, scrambling up again heavily. He _was_ leaking magic; Baz was right. (Again. Always.) He was always leaking magic. The fluff ball was pulling on him, weighing him down, he could feel his legs starting to cramp with the effort of resisting it's attempts to freeze him. Simon looked back, almost falling as he did ( _"Don't run backwards, you great numpty!"_ Penny-in-his-head shouted), to make sure the Cat was following.

It was. It certainly was. A glowing cat form slinked out of the Wood, orange and bright in the night. It was large. Very, very large. Like a house cat, but the size of a small horse.

Simon turned back around and ran the rest of the way to the moat. He swung the bag out and tossed it with all his might into the water.

It floated for a moment, glowing and lighting up the side of the wall. The bin bag floated away from around it, and the fluff ball bobbed, suspended in the water for a moment before it utterly disintegrated and its light flamed out.

Simon rested his hands on his knees, bending over to catch his breath. There was silence from behind him. He slowly turned around.

The MagiCat sat placidly, a yard away, watching him with intent, glowing eyes, its tail flicking back and forth in front of its paws, back and forth, back and forth. He backed up, remembering just in time that the moat was directly behind him. He edged to the side. The cat unfolded itself and followed.

There was a figure on duty at the main gate. One of the Mage's Men, it looked like. Simon ran closer. _Premal!_ Penny's brother. He called out to him.

Premal turned and raised his lantern to see what— _who_ -was running at him.

"Don't use any magic!" Simon shouted in warning, unsure what would happen now that the Seeker ball was gone.

Premal frowned and looked past him. "Great Merlin, Simon, where did you get a MagiCat?"

 _Does everyone know what these things are except me?_ "In the Wood!" Simon called aloud. "I need to trap it! Do you—do you have a box, or something?"

Premal gave him _a Look_ , very similar to one of Penny's. Then he handed the lantern to Simon and made a 'stay here' gesture. He sidled past the MagiCat and ran off in the direction of the drawbridge.

Simon clutched the lantern and leaned back against the main gates, panting, staring at the cat. It sat down again, tail twitching as before. It was almost hypnotic to watch. Back and forth, back and forth, back...and...forth...back...

Other sounds...there were other sounds, out beyond the circle of light cast by the lantern and the cat...but they didn't mean anything...simply noise...shouty noises...beyond...beyond what was important..which was...nothing was important...nothing at all...not even breathing...

He felt the lantern slip from his grasp, but it didn't even register. He felt himself, slipping down the bars of the gate to the ground, the cold, damp ground. Shoutiness. Cardboard-y noises. A loud "mrrrp!' and hissing, and then a sharp slap across his face that he did feel, most certainly.

"Fuck!"

"Get up, Snow, you're making the ground steam." Baz stood in front of him, wearing his pajamas and a smirk, one eyebrow raised. Beyond him, Simon saw Premal, poking holes in a large cardboard box lid while the Mage stood over the box and cast a binding spell.

Simon hung onto the gate and hauled himself upright. He reached down and conscientiously set the lantern up, then raked back his disordered hair and looked again at Baz. He was still standing in front of him, and the look on his face was unreadable in the flickering light.

"Thank you," said Simon, meaning it.

"Don't mention it. Please. Let's not make this awkward, Snow."

"I—I owe you."

"I think I'd rather you didn't, all things considered. A debt paid from you might very well kill me. But you can do me a favor."

"Oh? Yes?"

"Next time you need help with something, don't wake me up." And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked back to the dorm, not even stopping when the Mage called his name.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This was written because I stayed up too late on the Solstice, and the fabulous aleistercrowleysnow on tumblr wanted a story with a happy ending._

 _I do not own the characters, all rights belong to Rainbow Rowell and St Martin's/Macmillan._

* * *

 **(Originally titled All Through The Night on tumblr)**

 **5:42 pm. Simon.**

"What d'you mean I have to wake him up _every hour?"_ Simon asked frantically, hovering about Penny's shoulder.

"Don't argue with me," Penny huffed, guiding Baz over to his bed."This is what you do with people who are concussed."

It was probably a bad sign, Simon reflected, that Baz was even allowing someone else to touch him, let alone Penelope.

"No one," said Baz distinctly, from behind his hands, "is waking me up every hour. Especially not you, Snow. I'll not have you looming up at me in the night. In fact," he raised his head, "everyone is going to leave the room. _NOW."_

Penny frowned, but she grabbed Simon's shoulder and propelled him out of the room and into the stairwell.

"He should really go to the infirmary," she muttered, crossing her arms and pacing on the landing. Simon moved to the step below so she'd have room to turn.

"He can't," he pointed out. "They'd know."

"They'd know what?" Penny asked irritably, mind not quite on what Simon was saying.

"They'd _know._ You know."

"What? Vampirism. Right, yes. Look, I can't stay because I promised Miss Possibelf I'd help with the Solstice celebration. And _you_ can't stay up here all night because then people will wonder where you are and come looking, so you'll have to pop in and out."

"He's going to kill me."

"Nonsense. He can't kill you in your room."

"Yes, but what about later," Simon muttered.

Penny started down the stairs. "Meet me on the lawn in fifteen, Simon, we have a log to haul."

Simon dithered on the stairs for a moment more and then went back into their room. Baz was still sitting on the edge of his bed, his head cradled in his hands, fingers rustling through his disordered hair.

"You were stupid," Simon said. _Oh, brilliant opener, Snow, well done._

"I'm only going to say this politely once, Snow: Please. Leave."

"Can't. You might fall asleep and die."

"And then all your problems would be solved."

"Not solved, exactly. Not all."

 **6:37 pm. Baz.**

I think perhaps I've really sent him away. He left abruptly over 45 minutes ago, and he hasn't come back.

I should be pleased. I'm not.

The sounds of the Solstice are drifting up from the lawn through that damnable window Snow's left open again. I'm so cold I'm shivering, even under the blanket, but my head is in too much pain to allow for movement.

Snow is right, damn him. I was stupid. And careless. And damn him again, it's his own bloody fault.

 **7:01 pm. Simon.**

Simon took the stairs to the tower three at a time. He was 19 minutes late to check on Baz. He had gotten roped into Yule log moving, and then the Mage had wanted to talk about fire spells, and all the time Simon wanted to say, _Baz is much better at this, you should be talking to him,_ except then the Mage would wonder where Baz was, and he couldn't say, and–

Baz was asleep. One arm across his eyes, one laying on his chest, his grayish skin almost pearly in the low light. Simon stood in indecision over his bed. Waking Baz up seemed suddenly like an even worse idea than before. He might spring up and bite. He might–

Simon reminded himself of the Anathema and Penny's insistence about proper care schedules. He nudged Baz's elbow.

Nothing happened.

"Baz?" Simon reached out and touched the hand that was lying on his chest, rising and falling ever so slowly in time with Baz's breathing. His hand was trembling slightly, and so very very cold.

" _Baz?"_ Simon gripped his hand and half clambered onto the bed. _He'd been late_ …

"Baz, come on, you, wake up."

"Great Suleiman, Snow, get off me." Baz struggled to sit up, trying to shake off Simon's hand unsuccessfully. "And get off my bed."

"Are you all right, then? You're shivering."

"Well, it's bloody cold in here, isn't it."

"Is it?"

Baz dropped back onto his pillow, then yanked his hand out of Simon's to press both to his head. Simon could tell he was swearing under his breath.

"I'll just shut the window then, shall I?" Simon slid off Baz's sheets and sidled behind his desk to the window. "I'll just–"

The window wouldn't budge. Simon pressed harder. All he managed to do was slip backwards from his own force, bang his hip into his desk, and cause a cascade of pencils and an anguished groan from the opposite bed.

"Sorry."

"I thought for once you'd done what I asked and left, Snow. And then you came back."

"Can't you do a spell?"

"To make you leave again?"

"No, to fix the window."

Baz sat up, one hand to his head, and swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. Simon, hurriedly edging out from behind his desk, was just in time to catch him as he fell.

"Dizziness. Penny said this could happen." Simon rearranged Baz's arm so it was over his shoulder.

"Bunce a doctor now?"

"Almost, I should think. _Can_ you even do a spell?"

A pause. "No, no I don't think I can." There was a note of manic curiosity in Baz's voice. "How odd. It hurts too much to think that hard."

 **7:29 pm. Baz.**

I never meant to say that. I never mean to say anything personal around Snow, and yet it keeps leaking out. Luckily, he doesn't notice. (He doesn't notice a lot of things.)

Unluckily, it's very hard to not notice something said by the person in your arms. Even Snow can't manage that one.

"You shouldn't have done…what you did."

"How marvelously vague, Snow. Put me down." And yet I never want him to let go of me. He's so warm, and alive, and here, with me.

Snow, as usual, disregards me. He sits down on the bed with me and isn't removing his arm from around me. I think he may have forgotten what his arm is doing, actually.

"You shouldn't have gotten between me and that bird-thing."

"Harpy. Do your research." He's just so very warm, and I am so very cold. And tired. And oh, Merlin, my head.

"I was handling it."

"You most certainly were not."

"Well, even if I wasn't, you had no business stepping in."

"If this is your version of thanking me, Snow, I must say, it's going splendidly." Would he notice, do you think, if I rested my head on his shoulder. "And I have every right to assist in the defense of my school from harpies. Besides, if you die, I automatically get top marks. School policy. And I have too much pride not to earn them on my own."

"You're an idiot."

"You're the one who charged a harpy."

"Yeah, but so did you."

I'm going to lose this argument. (I lose every argument, even the ones Snow thinks I win.) I'm not even sure we're arguing, or if this is just the only way we know how to talk to each other. I don't know. I don't care. He's _right here,_ with me, and he hasn't noticed that my head is on his shoulder so perhaps, for just a moment–

He's moving.

He's taking me with him.

 **10:49 pm. Penelope.**

I brought scones, and sausages, and paracetamol.

Simon disappeared for the entire Solstice party, proving once again that the boy cannot follow directions to save his life. No one really missed him, though. Perk of having a giant log on fire, it kind of focuses the energy of the party.

They are asleep. Somehow, improbably, they are asleep. In the same bed. And neither of them is dead, or under a spell. They look–peaceful ,in fact. Simon has his arm underneath Baz, and vampire boy's _head_ is on Simon's _shoulder_ , with a blanket around him. Simon's half sitting up against the headboard, and there's a scrap of paper clutched in his other hand. There are times written on it. He's been waking up Baz and making a chart.

I drop the paracetamol.

Not even that wakes them up, not even me fishing the bottle out from under the bed.

Sometimes I wonder if all that insistence about Mortal Enemies isn't the gentlemen protesting too much. And then I tell myself not to be silly. And I tell Simon to stop whinging. And I don't tell Agatha anything at all.

(What would I even say?)

I leave the food on Simon's desk and shut the open window. Silly boys. Catch their deaths that way.

 **8:04 am. Baz.**

White-grey light is flooding the room. Simon is still asleep, after a night of nudging me every hour or so and asking if I hurt, or how many fingers he has.

The headache is dissipating. I still hurt, though.

It's a good hurt. Laying against Simon Snow's chest, hearing his heartbeat echo in my ear, I could hurt like this forever.

I'll have to get up soon. I have to be gone before he wakes up. There's no way this can end well.

 **9:29 pm. Two Years Later. Simon.**

I never want to get up. Baz came over for dinner, and as usual, he didn't leave, and as always, he's fallen asleep in my arms.

I will never not love this. I will never not love–

He's waking up.

"Happy Solstice, you," I say quietly.

"Going to wake me up every hour again, are you," he says, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the mole on my neck.

"Could do." I pull him closer and kiss his bare shoulder in retaliation and he shivers.

"Christmas, Solstice. You've a thing about saving me in December, Snow."

"As I recall, you saved me first." Now he's pulled me on top of him, one hand reached up and tangled in my curls, to pull my head down for a kiss.

"It's not a contest," he says.

"If it was, you'd be winning."

"I always win." He smiles against my lips and kisses me again, and again. "I've got you, Snow."


End file.
